


The Lot Checker

by MissBMarie



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-24
Updated: 2016-05-27
Packaged: 2018-06-10 10:18:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6952630
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissBMarie/pseuds/MissBMarie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sansa was not used to being disliked. And though she’d expected to eventually encounter this problem, she’d thus far been blessed that her overwhelming charm had prevented it.</p><p>It seemed, however, that this man was impervious to that charm.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

Clipboard? Check.

Envelopes? Check.

Route Sheet? Check.

Sansa jostled the handheld printer at her side and tugged the strap over her torso, securing it in place. She double checked her inventory, ensuring she had everything she needed. Then she tightened her ponytail, adjusted the brim of her hat, and headed for the door.

“Oh, Sansa?” Her boss beckoned her back with an open palm, his eyes not yet leaving the paper he was scribbling furiously on. The offhanded gesture was not done with the intention of being rude, but simply a bad habit of his. Like he couldn’t waste a moment not working during the time it took for her to cross the room to his desk.

He finished up whatever he was writing with a prominent swing of his pen just as she approached. 

“Yessir?” She asked. He sat back in his chair, and pulled out a familiar laminated map. 

“Lot 793.” He said, placing it up on the counter above his desk and indicating the said location. Sansa nodded to affirm she knew where he was talking about. “There’s some construction going on at the adjacent building. A new apartment complex, I think.” he said, “But the clinic is complaining that the workers are using their parking spaces. If you see anyone without a parking pass, issue a notice. If any of them give you trouble, just redirect them back here, let them know they can buy a pass.” 

Sansa nodded vigorously, placing a star next to 793 on her route sheet to remind herself. 

“No problem.” She told him.  

Despite the lackluster response some of her friends had expressed after she’d taken a job as a lot checker for a local parking company, Sansa didn’t really mind the work. It was fairly simple. She drove from lot to lot collecting money and checking for parking passes. She rarely had to speak with her boss, who only called for emergencies, and she never had to deal with co-workers. Though every once and awhile she had to cope with people spotting her as she was issuing a ticket, and the resulting ignorance they often feigned. During her training, some of her co-workers had told her about a few unruly people, but Sansa had yet to encounter anything of that nature.

No. This job was easy. Mechanical and repetitive in nature. Sansa would often find herself lost in her own thoughts all throughout the day. And she didn’t mind that at all. 

But today? Today was a bit different. It was just after lunch when she pulled into lot 793. The health clinic was being swarmed midday, and the heavy amount of trucks that occupied the northern strip of their lot wasn’t helping the matter. 

Sansa could tell immediately they didn’t belong there, what with the tools and equipment piled up in the truck beds. She was sure these were the construction workers she’d been warned about. And lo and behold, as she hopped out of her car and began to walk to perimeter, each and every one lacked a parking pass.

Sansa whipped out her employee mobile, cued up her printer, and set to work. As she went down the line, issuing one ticket after another, she could hear the banging and clanging of power tools, and men shouting indistinctly to one another. It was loud enough that she never heard the voice calling to her until it was right up beside her. She’d been at the end of the line of trucks, issuing out her last ticket to a giant black pick-up, when a man entered her peripherals, effectively startling her out of her thoughts. 

“Hey, hold up there!” He bellowed, and Sansa’s free hand flew to her chest, as though to catch the gasp that left her lips. 

She expected to see the dirty pair of khaki pants, and the dust covered white shirt. She expected the heavy tool belt, and sturdy, if not grody, boots. And, she expected him to be displeased with what he probably was accurately assuming she was doing at his vehicle. 

What she didn’t expect was a man with an incredibly angered scowl, only made worse by the leathery scars that adorned the greater part of his face. 

That made her eyes go wide, and her breath hitch, and she was suddenly grateful for the large, dorky hat the company made their employees wear, for she felt slightly protected under its heavy brim. 

“What is it you think you’re doing?” The man demanded of her. He crossed large, well toned arms over one another, grounding his feet in place, glowering at her with purpose. Sansa inhaled sharply.

“This is a permit only parking lot, sir.” she fumbled, feeling heat rise to her neck. “You need to have a permit to park here.” 

“I got that when you said ‘permit only’,” he snipped. Sansa didn’t much appreciate his tone. Still, she was an employee representing a company. Despite that she took this job for it’s lack of customer service encounters, sometimes it was unavoidable. Sansa held out the ticket for the man to see, and he snatched it from her hand with unwarranted emphasis, turning it as though it were written in a foreign language.

“I’m sorry, sir. But you’re more than welcome to call the office line indicated on the back of the notice, and purchase a pass to park here. There’s also-” 

“Enough of your chirping.” the man waved at open palm at her, and the audacity of the gesture left Sansa with blood boiling beneath her skin. At this point a few of the other construction workers were making their way over. She eyed her proximity to the clinic. Though she did not think these men meant to harm her, she was in no way interested in being the target of their grievances. 

“This is shit.” The man spat. Sansa bristled at that, and would swear she felt her hair stand on end, like an angry cat. 

“What’s shit?” one of the men asked, and the small lot of them crowded around, looking at the paper as though it were some kind of death warrant. Sansa suddenly felt like she was the judge of witch hunt, presenting a list of offenders that were to be executed. That’s how these men were reacting, in any case. 

_ It’s 30 dollars, not life or death _ , she wanted to say.  _ Just buy the permit.  _

However, those words never left her lips.    
  
“There is also a free lot a couple of blocks down.” Sansa said instead, pointing in the indicated direction. The man scoffed at her.

“We’re  _ working  _ here, why should we have to walk half a mile?” he snipped. Sansa inhaled as discreetly as she could as a few men nodded and murmured in agreement.

“These are clinic spaces your vehicles are occupying.” she told them. “And as you can see, the lot is currently full. They do not have the space to spare.” she argued.

“But we can buy a permit to park here?” Another man asked. Sansa confirmed. “I’ll bet the company would pay for it.” He said to his peers.

Sansa took the small victory and hurried to make an escape.

“Bugger that.” The large man’s misshapen lip curled upward as he cursed and shook his head, reaching out to hand her back the ticket. “I’m not paying it.” he declared. Sansa eyed the tiny piece of paper.

“The notice is already documented in the system, sir. Even if you don’t take it, the fee will increase until it’s sent to collections-”

“Bloody hell.” He seethed and gave her one last glance before stalking away. Sansa was not sad to see him go. 

 

\---------------------------------------------------

 

The following day, she found herself in a similar song and dance. 

“Oye, Sansa?” She caught the sight of her boss’s hand waving at her from the other side of his desk, though he did not look up. But she knew the drill. “I still want you down at lot 793, today.” he advised, “But the good news is: a bunch of those construction workers bought passes yesterday.” he told her. 

Sansa inwardly hoped the man with the scars was among them.

Apparently that was too much to ask though. 

On the contrary, every one of his peers had opted to make the plunge, their vehicles now sporting monthly passes upon each individual dashboard. All except the black pick-up on the very end. All except his.

Sansa sighed and pulled out her mobile, typing it in as quickly as she could manage. Perhaps she could issue the notice before he spotted her.    
  
Fortune seemed to be on her side this day. The machine spit out the ticket, and she tore out an envelope with unbridled speed. By the time she was back at her vehicle, she’d broken a sweat. 

That luck, however, was short lived.

On the third day, Sansa made her way down the line, only to find the black truck, still passless.

Was there a more stubborn man on this Earth? 

She could hear the construction workers in the distance and quickly shook herself of the thought, aiming to once again be in and out before he even knew she was there. 

“Hey!” 

No such luck. 

“Hey!” He repeated, and Sansa turned to the clunking of heavy boots slowing as they approached. “Really? This again?” He snipped. Sansa felt her body tense, wanting desperately not to look at him. She inhaled deeply, gathering up her courage.

“You need a pass to park here, sir.” she told him again, now raising a hand to indicate to the line of trucks all adorned with parking passes. She’d avoided looking at him for but a moment. However, the pause he left after her words forced her to meet his risen brow - only one for the other had mostly melted away - his flared nostrils, and his clear and present scowl.

“You’re like a trained bird.” he announced, “repeating what you’re told. Mayhaps you’ll learn this: I’m not paying these tickets, nor do I intend to buy a bloody pass.” 

Sansa felt heat rise to her neck. She pursed her lips together, focusing all her attentions on his unburnt eye.

“This ticket will bring you up to $90.” she told him, “$180 if you fail to address them within the 15 day policy. As long as you purchase the parking pass within the month, the company will right off the existing tickets.” She was not hopeful that this information would elicit any better reaction from him, but she was willing to try anything if it might quell his anger.

What she didn’t want to do was have to take this to her boss. It was bad enough being one of only two women on staff. Though the lack of co-worker interaction made its apparency less so, there was a clear gender bias for her position.

And this was often why. No one liked lot checkers, after all.

Sansa was not used to being disliked. And though she’d expected to eventually encounter this problem, she’d thus far been blessed that her overwhelming charm had prevented it.

It seemed, however, that this man was impervious to that charm.

“Is that so?” He asked as his large, dirty hand reached up, grasping at his stubble ridden chin. Sansa didn’t like that tone. Whereas a moment ago she only felt a bit vulnerable, now she felt as though she were waiting for him to pull out some sort of trump card. It was an unfair thing, to be made to feel as though she were at his mercy, when he was the one in the wrong.

“Yessir.” she said, sounding meek to her own ears.

“So what you’re telling me is that all my buddies over there not only paid for the tickets you issued them, but also for parking passes, and not one of them was told this information you just imparted on me?-”

_ Oh snap _ .

“-A very underhanded way to make additional cash if you ask me. If what you’re saying is true.”

And it was, very much so. And he wasn’t wrong. This was a tactic the company often used. 

“They’re basically exploiting customer’s ignorance.” He continued.

Sansa was very much aware of this. Of course she couldn’t say that. 

But she didn’t know what  _ to _ say. This was a terribly, terribly bad situation she’d walked herself right into. She felt her knees begin to shake, and behind her eyes was a familiar prickling sensation.  She opened her mouth to speak, but only succeeded in creating a wide gaping whole in her face, nothing but silence spilling from her throat. 

“And I have the whole month?” he asked. Now he crossed those thick arms over his chest in an incredibly smug manner, staring at her expectedly. “You’re saying I could wait until the very last day of the month to buy your little pass, and the tickets would all be voided?” 

Sansa swallowed thickly, feeling as though she might choke on her words.

“Yes.” She croaked. The man nodded, the thin hair that barely grew on the left side falling over his face. 

“Alright then.” he said decidedly, then reached forward and plucked the ticket out of Sansa’s frozen fingers. She stared down at his hands as though she couldn’t quite comprehend how he’d done that.

And then he was gone.

  
Sansa had never truly understood the weight of the sentiment TGIF until that day. 


	2. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> His hands were large. Dirty and cracked. They looked impenetrable. The strongest hands in the world, maybe.

Unfortunately, three days after a TGIF, Monday comes back with a vengeance.

Though Sansa pushed the man from her mind over the weekend, Monday morning her feet dragged on her way into work, and by the time noon came round, she was tapping her fingers nervously on the steering wheel, willing traffic to slow as she neared lot 793.

But it didn’t. It cleared as though Moses himself had parted a sea of cars, freeing up a path just for her.

She pulled into the lot, and for a moment, stared out at the construction site, scoping the grounds for the man, strangely tall in stature and wide in build. He was nearly impossible to miss, truthfully.

However, when her eyes found him, it seemed he’d already spotted her as well. It wasn’t abnormal for businesses they frequented to recognize a lot checker’s car. Sansa chided herself for being surprised that he’d purposely bothered to take note of hers.

She inhaled deeply, and steeled herself.

Exiting her car with as much composure as she could muster, she began her perimeter walk, pointedly turning away from the construction zone and focusing only on the cars before her.

She reached the end of the line: The black pick-up, once again, passless.

Sansa set to work.

“You’re relentless.” He approached as the ticket was printing, the smooth paper sliding out of her printer with a humming sound. Sansa made an attempt to swallow her nerves.

“Just doing my job, Sir.” She said as firmly as she could. The man huffed as she slid the ticket into an envelope.

“Enough with the ‘sirs’.” He rounded her as she tucked the paper under his wiper blade. Sansa didn’t appreciate the close proximity and quickly stepped back. But he only leaned against his door, folding his arms and watching her.

She didn’t say anything to that. If he didn’t want her to call him ‘Sir’, fine. No skin off her nose. If she had it her way, she’d never utter another word to him.

“Tell me.” he said, and inhaled deeply, brow curving inward. “How does a skittish little thing like you end up in a job like this?” Sansa frowned.

“I beg your pardon, Sir-”, he lifted a hand, waving one singular digit back and forth, silently telling her: _nuh-uh-uh_. Sansa bit her tongue, “I beg your pardon,” she repeated, sans the Sir, “but I’m not skittish.” she told him. He huffed again, and it was threaded with an air of amusement that thoroughly infuriated Sansa.

“You are.” he said.

“I’m not.” The audacity of this man was completely beyond her, “Is it really that insane to think people should treat others with a certain level of respect, no matter the circumstances?” she asked. The words felt hot on her tongue and she immediately regretted them. But despite that, more still fell from her lips, “Everyone has a job to do, after all. I’m merely doing mine. And I’d hope that others would at the least be capable enough to acknowledge that fact and treat me with some dignity.”

“But your job involves ruining people’s days.” he retorted. Sansa had to bite her lip to keep it from pouting.  

“But someone has to do this job-” He tossed a hand up, and nodded in agreement.

“To my point.” he said, “Someone has to, but how in the world did it end up being a skittish little thing like you?-”

“Please don’t call me ‘little thing’.” she snipped. That made him concede. Sansa straightened the strap of her printer. “Now if you’ll excuse me.” she turned swiftly on her heel, and hurriedly made her way to her car.

\-----------------------------------------------------

She spent the next 24 hours wondering if he’d make a complaint. She hadn’t meant to express those thoughts to him. That was not the ideal representation of customer service. But he was being rude. He’d called her skittish.

Whether or not he was right (he was, she hated confrontation), he refused to acknowledge that he was also the one in the wrong, and was asserting himself in an attempt to denounced her authority regarding the situation. Something he’d been doing from day one.

Sansa sighed. It was a lost battle. Yes, he was wrong, but … well no one likes parking companies.

They serve the purpose of keeping lots maintained and addressing any unauthorized persons. But for the most part, they are an entirely monetarily focused industry. More tickets, more money. That’s what it came down to.

Sansa sighed as she pulled into lot 793 the following day, and briefly considered just passing it up entirely. She might be able to get away with it for one, maybe two days before she was asked about it.

_‘Oh my goodness, I entirely forgot!’_

But truly, it would just be putting off the inevitable. And in any case, she didn’t want to be flakey in addition to skittish. She sighed and made her way over to the black pickup. She typed, she printed, she grabbed an envelope, and slid it under the wiper blade.

The man had yet to show.

Sansa peered across the street, despite herself. She could see him, with a small group of other men, carrying large pieces of paneling from one side of the skeleton of a building to the other. He had to have seen her.

The better for it, Sansa thought. Despite her concern that he might call her boss, and despite her guilt for providing poor customer service, she had no desire to speak to him again.

\--------------------------------------------

_Penises._

Lots of them, all over their company sign.

Sansa squinted against the sun, arching her neck up to stare at the defaced metal square.

Today, she’d arrived at 793 to find these, spray painted in bright red, misshapen and over emphasised erect penises.

She sighed, and snapped a photo on her company mobile, texting it to her boss.

‘Can you take it down?’ he replied a moment later.

Sansa couldn’t help the downward pull at her lips. She stepped up to the poll and extended on tiptoe, experimentally grabbing hold of the sides to see if she could pull it off the metal hook.

No such luck. She need just a bit more height to slide the metal handle up and off.

Sansa bounced on the balls of her feet for a moment. If there wasn’t a car parked right there, she might be able to pull her own car onto the sidewalk and climb on that.

But, as luck would have it, there was a car in the way, so that was a no-go.

She did have that battery charger in her trunk. Maybe if she used it as a step stool?

Decided, Sansa retrieved the item from her car and placed it at the base of the poll, gingerly testing her balance on it.

One foot was good, then the second. She arched to the tip of her toes again, and pushed the sign up. She was able to twist her neck to see the back, and she watched as the handle slid up the length of the hook, just short of being free of it.

She purposefully pressed her tongue to her cheek, and gave the sign a shove, thinking maybe she could throw it off the hook, and then, maybe, catch it.

Instead it landing perfectly right back down where it started, and caught Sansa’s fingers between it and the poll.

“Bloody hell.” She cursed, using her other hand to grip her injured digits, though it did nothing to sooth them.

“Need a hand?” Sansa turned so swiftly, she slid off the battery charger. Though it was a short fall, she grabbed onto the poll for support, further displaying her ineptitude for the current task.

The man made no move to comment on it though. He held out a hand, startled that she slid, but recoiled the moment she regained herself. He waited for her response a foot or so away, dark brow pressed downward, mouth screwed shut. His hair was pulled back today, relieving his neck from the spring heat.

It also revealed more of his face, and Sansa could see the gnarled nub of flesh that used to be his ear.

“Um.” Sansa swallowed thickly, “If you don’t mind.” She piped. The man said nothing, but made his way toward her. Sansa reached down to grab her battery charger and move it out of his way before stepping aside.

He took hold of the sign and easily pulled it down.

Sansa smiled as he set it against the poll.

“Thank you.” She said. He huffed, taking a step back and examining his shoes for a moment.

“I couldn’t very well let you spend the rest of your days fussing over it.” he told her.

Sansa thought on that. He’d been watching her, then, as she toiled away to solve her little conundrum. She wasn’t sure how she was meant to feel about that.

“You have my daily ticket, I assume?” He’d folded his arms over his chest, face turned downward before peering up at her, a bit expectantly. Sansa shook her head.

“Haven’t written it yet.” she told him, and thought that perhaps she should forgo it today, considering how he helped her. But then, would he expect her to forgo it every day following? She couldn’t very well do that. If the clinic noticed and called her boss, she’d certainly-

“Well, on with it then. I nearly have enough to fill my entire dashboard.” Sansa faltered, but he turned away and made his way to his truck, waiting for her.

She was torn. Which resulted in her hesitantly following him.

It was awkward, standing beside him as she typed into her company mobile. They said nothing. She entered the information, which she’d at this point memorized, and printed. She looked over at him, and was met with an open palm.

His hands were large. Dirty and cracked. They looked impenetrable. The strongest hands in the world, maybe.

Sansa placed the clean, white paper in his palm. He lifted an eyebrow.

“My envelope?” he asked. Sansa reached into her back pocket, pulling out the little yellow folded paper. He took it with a nod, and stuffed them in his own pocket, and turned back to the street.

“Tomorrow, then.” he said.

\---------------------------------------------------------------

By the next day the sign had been replaced. They’d tried to clean it, but it seemed no formula could mask the faint outline of hairy testicals and veiny sctroums. Sansa looked up at the gleaming new sign but a moment before making her way over to the black pick-up.

It seemed he wasn’t kidding. Today, all 6 little yellow envelopes were lined side by side on the dashboard. They certainly didn’t cover it, but he was well on his way.

What a strange man, she thought.

Certainly he must plan to buy the pass. He’d expressed clear interest in what she’d told him regarding it, and voiding all prior notices. Did he really plan to wait until the end of the month? What earthly purpose did that serve?

“I think the black and yellow go well together,” he said as he approached. Sansa laughed softly, and shook her head.

Very strange man.

“Yes, very much so.” she played along. “Very avant-garde.” She wasn’t looking at him, but she caught the upward movement of his one good brow.

“What?” he said. She smiled.

“Avant-garde.” she repeated, “It’s a word used to describe a new or unusual idea, particularly in the arts. Like, as in: ‘Her avant-garde artwork shocked the more traditional visitors to the gallery.’” She explained as her printer hummed at her side. She tore off the ticket, and produced an envelope.

“Aye, so, ‘weird’?” he asked, and before Sansa could object, continued, “So let me try: ‘The avant-garde film that featured a cast of naked midgets offended my conservative parents.’” Sansa brought a hand up to stifle a laugh.

“Yes, okay, sort of.” she conceded, and held out the notice.  He looked as though he meant to say something more, but was abruptly cut short. Sansa had noticed a truck pull up into a vacant parking space, but hadn’t realized someone had been heading their way.

“Ah, leave the poor girl be, Hound!” the newcomer called out, though it seemed the comment was in jest as the man grinned and fastened his belt to his hips.

“You’re late, Bronn.”

The man, Bronn, offered up a shrug of the shoulders before making his way across the street.

“Hound?” Sansa repeated. What sort of name was that? He sensed her confusion, and scoffed.

“A nickname, of sorts.” he explained. Once again, he looked as though he meant to say more, but Sansa’s work mobile chimed at her side.

“I better be off.” she said as she pulled it out of her pocket, and waved before heading back to her car.


End file.
